A Night to Forget
by Rising Lorn
Summary: Loose lips sink ships. That's code for, "I'll kill you if you blab ."


**Author's Notes: My muse is alive and well. Soon I will continue CA. Soon.**

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Ragna tugged irritably at the collar of his fresh, crisp suit. He hated these things. All pomp, no substance, and he _hated_ that most of all. "Ugh. Why the fuck did I agree to this?" he grumbled. Makoto perked up at this comment and stomped on his foot warningly alongside an ugly look. "Ouch! Sheesh, sorry, sorry. I'll stay incognito or whatever the fu..." At the look upon the beastkin's face he stopped and added hastily, "I'll play my part."

Makoto was certainly playing hers. She was wearing a sleek, sequined black cocktail dress with an orange trim of fabric along the (provocatively low-cut) V neck. "Just try to keep the swear words out of your speech and maybe we'll actually pull make it through this little soiree with our cover intact.

"Feh. Whatever. Just direct me to the the booze. I act better when I'm drunk," said Ragna flatly. "Ouch! Take it easy with those things, they're stilettos!" With an irritated sigh, Makoto pulled Ragna towards a group of high-ranking NOL officers and made to introduce herself and her "date." Kokonoe had instructed them to reconnoiter the party and relay any important information concerning "Hazama" to her immediately.

While sending the Grim Reaper himself to a party seemed like madness, Kokonoe had ensured that his identity would be near impossible to discover with two simple fixes. Black hair dye and a colored contact to correct his heterochromia. It seemed stupid-two tiny fixes could hardly be expected to render the SS-class criminal invisible to the public. No sane, competent person could possibly _not_ notice him, yes?

It came to pass that Wadatsumi was a city of either the insane or the stupid. Or perhaps both. Not a soul took the Grim Reaper for whom he really was.

With a proper smile, Makoto bowed to the officers and introduced herself- for the occasion she had dyed her own hair the same jet-black that Ragna's was. "It is a pleasure to meet you two. I am Lieutenant Johnson. This is Sergeant Adams. We couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Something about Intelligence Officer Hazama?"

The officers looked at one another and back to the beastkin. "Yes, there have been some mutterings of possible dissension within the Intelligence Department. They are...displeased with his methods." Makoto cocked her head. Recognizing her confusion, the officer continued. "An entire division of officers in the Kagutsuchi branch have vanished. Entirely. Except of course, for Captain Hazama and a few key personnel, mostly off-site. There's been mutterings of a court-martial but he seems to be untouchable. The Imperator herself has taken interest in the case and detained all records concerning the Captain. They are now classified as Eyes-Only, Security Class S."

Makoto's eyes widened. "Class S...I haven't heard of a single document being made Class S in the entire time I've been with the NOL," she said in astonishment. Beneath the facade, she was pensive. Could Hazama be _losing_ his grip on the NOL?

The other officer shrugged. "Only four documents have been made Class S in the last ten years, and I couldn't tell you who they concerned outside of this particular instance. They're incredibly high profile, but if the Imperator believes it is necessary to detain the records, then I suppose we have nothing to do but accept it. Much as I would like to look into them- there's no reason the documents should be detained unless Hazama was implicated in something huge."

"Pfft. He'll get what's coming to him," said Ragna dismissively. The officers looked at him in alarm. "Uh, I mean, you know, the system has a way of working itself out and...uh...well..." He looked guiltily at his well-polished shoes.

Makoto gave the officers an apologetic look and dragged Ragna to a secluded corner of the banquet hall. With a sharp jab to his chest that knocked far more wind out of him than he expected, she said angrily, "If you can't keep the cover then just shut up!" She crossed her arms in a huff and looked about the room. When she spotted a waiter carrying a tray laden with champagne glasses she snapped to call him over. She took two glasses from the tray and handed one to Ragna. "Liquor tends to loosen tongues. Maybe it'll actually tighten yours though." She dropped the golden liquid down the hatch in a single gulp and pulled a second glass immediately from the tray. The waiter, perhaps out of a feeling that she would not let him leave, set the tray down and walked off. "Or maybe it'll make whatever you say unintelligible. Whichever comes first. Now drink."

Interested in keeping the air in his lungs and sprucing up the dull buzz of conversation in the hall, Ragna did as he was told. Seven glasses later, the room had begun to take on a slight spin and the blood had rushed largely to his head. Makoto had thoroughly forgotten that there was a mission on hand, perhaps in her anger, but had also forgotten her own name, clearly from the twelve glasses of champagne she had downed in rather rapid succession. Now clinging to either one chair or three broken ones for support she slurred out, "Rag...er...uh...You. I'm going." She stopped and hiccuped. "Going to...to that place. With the...Yeah." She stumbled her way in the general direction of the lavatory, and Ragna, realizing his own bladder was immensely full, followed suit.

Ragna wobbled uneasily before the urinal and missed the handle to flush it several times. Irritated, he gave up and made his way over to the sink where he managed to successfully wash his hand. Drying them, however, could be best described as a rousing effort. He pushed his way past the door and crashed directly into Makoto. "Ugh. Can we just...just leave? I'm fucking done with this place."

Makoto clutched his shoulder for support and wobbled. "My head hurts. Let me just tell Kokonoe we're pulling out." She tapped her ear and mumbled, "We're out of here. Got some information but nothing that great. It was just a stupid dinner party."

Kokonoe responded with and irritated, "Tch. Whatever. Just don't get caught on the way out."

Still clutching him for support, Makoto said, "Just get us across the street to the hotel."

"Easier said than done," grumbled Ragna. It was. An entire fifteen minutes of careful steps, stumbles and a spectacular fall from Ragna off the last step on the stairs leading out of the hall left the two before the receptionist at the hotel. "Just...a room. Anything. With a shower and a toilet. Definitely a toilet."

The receptionist handed over a pair of keys to the two and directed them down the hall. Ragna collapsed promptly on the bed while Makoto made immediately for the shower. He faded in and out of consciousness, waking every few minutes to the sounds of running water. When he rejoined the land of the waking to the sound of nothing, he looked blearily up towards the bathroom and saw a partially dry, toweled Makoto clutching the door frame for support. "That did not help as much as I would have liked," she said unhappily.

Ragna rubbed his eyes and said, speech still slurred, "Where's your clothes. And the other bed?" Makoto rolled her eyes and pointed at the floor. "Nope. Fuck you." Makoto made immediately for Ragna and tugged at his leg to pull him from the bed. "Watch it!" He kicked instinctively and managed to kick her directly in the face.

This did not please Makoto. "Get off!" With a firm tugged, she pulled him completely from the bed. And threw him directly against the wall. Ragna got to his feet, face curled in a snarl and ready to fight back but stopped dead in his tracks.

"Get some fuckin' clothes on. I can't fight with a stiffy," he said smugly.

Makoto was nude- she tried desperately to cover herself and in the terrible torrent of anger and embarrassment she grabbed Ragna and threw him, rather unproductively, back onto the bed. In close pursuit, she jumped atop him and reared back, fist coiled. "You're so DAMN..." A sharp hook connected with the side of the Reaper's face and turned his face immediately back to face her own. "Awful. Just. Ugh." And so she kissed him.

Ragna pushed her away from him long enough to ask, "What the fuck are you doing?" Makoto slapped him and kissed him hungrily.

Muffled and messy, she said, "Shuddup and kish me." So he did, and amidst drunken, haphazard kisses, he found his way out of his suit and undergarments and in between her legs. It was imprecise, to say the least. His thrusts were enthusiastic but entirely out rhythm. It didn't seem to bother Makoto in the slightest, who crossed her legs behind his back and drew him deeper. A hand moved from her hips and up to an erratically bouncing breast and squeezed it clumsily. Nothing about this entire event was natural. Other than perhaps the welling feelings of pleasure within the two.

Ragna pulled himself away from Makoto long enough to try to roll her over, and it was only after he had unsuccessfully pulled on her side and mumbled incoherently for her to roll did Makoto realize what he was asking and oblige. He stood uneasily on his knees and pushed inwards. He missed. Then he missed again. Then hit base and was promptly backhanded for using the rear entrance. Then he hit base again. A very furry, soft base. "That's my tail...Oh for..." She reached impatiently between her legs and took hold of his member to guide him. Finally settled in, he thrusted steadily harder. Twice Makoto lost balance on all-fours and fell flat onto her stomach. The third time Ragna only just managed to grab hold of her tail. This was met with yet another backhand. "That hurts! Ugh, just..." She got drunkenly to her own knees and pushed him impatiently onto his back to straddle him. "Can't do anything right..."

Ragna took note that she was slamming down atop him with more force than he would have liked, but the alcohol coursing through his system seemed to have dulled his senses enough to leave him him blissfully uncaring. She slumped down close to his chest, breasts pushing pleasantly against him and worked her hips steadily faster along his length. Sharp, short pants of pleasure puffed into his ears and perhaps in a rare moment of lucidity, he grabbed hold of her hips and brought her down with increasing force.

And all at once, in the dull euphoria of drunken sex, he realized he was climaxing. Makoto towered ramrod above him, legs twitching involuntarily, head thrown back and mouth agape in orgasm. Ragna responded to the display with significantly less, instead pulling a face that could be mistaken as an indication that he had stubbed his toe and instinctively gripping her hips more tightly as seed surged forth into her womb.

And when the moment had passed and the two unlikely lovers (though it was a strain to say even that) looked back at one another, Makoto pulled hair slick with sweat off of her face and said dully, "Inside me. Really?"

Ragna pulled the beastkin unceremoniously off of him and let her slide and slowly collapse to his side. "I'm not exactly in the thinking kind of mindset right now," he muttered. His erection was fading along with the last of his waking energy and he yawned. "Whatever you'll be fine."

Makoto could hardly muster the energy to punch him and instead overshot, missing spectacularly. She let her arm fall upon his chest and left it there. "Ugh its just flowing out... This is disgusting." A snore came as a reply. Fed up, she resolved to have the issue cleared up in the morning and drifted immediately to sleep.

The morning dawned too brightly for the criminal's liking and he pulled a face as his eyes watered in the blazing sunshine that spilled into the room. "Fuck. My head," he groaned. He made to move but noticed a mass half lying upon him and almost passed out when he realized who it was. "For fuck's sake. Please no. Why? The fuck even happened last night?"

Stirred by the commotion, Makoto's eyes blinked open and took in the sight before her. A very naked, very confused and possibly angered Ragna, and her own form- naked and smelling of sex. She sat up slowly, deliberately and rubbed her eyes. The cogs of comprehension began to turn in her head and so, with what little energy she could muster this early and this hungover, she said simply, coldly and _murderously_, "Not. A. Soul."

Ragna could not agree more.

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**Closing Notes: Tell me if I'm out of practice. I need input now more than ever.**


End file.
